Oh The Weather Outside Is Frightful But The Fire Is So Delightful

Happy Christmas! Or Happy Friday! Or Happy Whatever-you-choose-to-celebrate!

I hope that wherever you are and whatever you're doing, you're happy, healthy, and loved.

2010 was difficult for a lot of people but I have a good feeling about 2011. Let's all do wonderful things and be nice to people, okay?

Fall On Me Black Helicopter You're All I See

Shawn brought home a remote controlled helicopter yesterday. It's not exactly Christmas cheer but the monsterpups losing their tiny little minds over the flying Intruder! adds immeasurable joy to my life.

We're, uh, really grown up and mature. Obviously.

Wolfgang is ready to move out and Stella is concocting elaborate plans of destruction. I'm fairly certain that Shawn's choppa (said in your best Arnold Schwarzenegger voice, please) is going to disappear without a trace one day soon.

Say, What's In This Drink?

Christmas is 12 days away and I am unable to muster an ounce of holiday spirit.

I tried. I baked (and ate copious amounts of) whipped shortbread. I sent Christmas cards. I ate my weight in miniature oranges. I even tried listening to Christmas music and I hate Christmas music (with the exception of Norah Jones and Willie Nelson's version of Baby it's Cold Outside. I don't care that it is the date rape Christmas carol, it's Willie fucking Nelson.)

Nothing is working, though. I remain listless and irritable.

I need a fast-acting dose of Christmas cheer. What works for you? I'll try anything (except egg nog. That shit is nasty.)

It's Too Late To Break It Off I Need A Release The Signal's A Cough

Shawn and I were both sick all weekend and then I started to feel better and he started to feel worse. I tried to be sympathetic (I did!) but part of me (okay, almost all of me) was convinced that he was putting one on. To get out of doing the dishes.

Yes, I am a gem of a wife, I know.

In my defense, Shawn really hates doing the dishes so I end up doing them most of the time. But then I get to a point where I cannot even look at another dirty dish and I announce that next time the dishes need to be washed, it's his turn.

On Monday I came home from work and the kitchen was still a mess so I did a little grumbling and reheated some soup and added the pot to the pile of dirty dishes. And thought spiteful thoughts of how the pile of dishes was only going to grow the longer he was "sick."

And then Shawn stayed home from work on Tuesday, which he never does.

And went to the doctor on his own accord, which he never does.

And then his doctor started throwing around words like pneumonia and bronchial inflammation and fluid in the lungs.

Basically I am a giant jerkface is what I'm saying.

And I washed the dishes last night.

You Give Me Chills Then You Leave Me Cold

This weekend was supposed to be about baking shortbread and writing Christmas cards and finishing up our Christmas shopping. It was supposed to be about embracing a season that historically we both struggle to enjoy.

Instead it was a weekend of fevers and chills, homemade chicken noodle soup, and getting out of bed only to don fresh pyjamas and clean linens before climbing right back between the sheets.

We'll find our Christmas spirit, I hope. Somewhere between the peppermint tea and discarded tissues.

Mountain Tops Seem Nice From A Distance

Robin has moved out of her temporary accommodations and into her new home in London, quashing any hope I had of her hating England and returning to Vancouver. I'm happy that she's happy, of course, but I'm also (selfishly) sad.

Cat is leaving me in a month. She's not going as far as Robin but her new home is five hours away from me. I'm excited for her. I'm happy that she's embracing change and starting a new adventure. I'm also happy that she's moving to one of my favourite places to visit (dude, next summer? You are not going to be able to get rid of me. Sorry!) But again, I'm sad.

I've known Robin and Cat for over 15 years. A little distance doesn't change our history. They're my people. They know my secrets and my crazy and love me anyway. They're always in my heart. I just wish they were in my kitchen, drinking wine and eating cheese, whenever I wanted.

It's similar with blogging. I find amazing bloggers and form connections and bonds. Blog friends become real life friends, emails turn into handwritten notes, and I lament the fact that I live so far away from my Internet people. I want to meet my bloggy peeps at the pub for post-work beers or take our monsterpups on a furbaby double date to the local dog park. I want to introduce you all to poutine.

It's comforting, in a way, to know that I have a network of real life and bloggy friends spread out across the globe but it can be lonely too. It's hard not to feel left behind when the people closest to me are embarking on amazing adventures and the only thing I've done lately is take hilarious pictures of my dogs.

He does not love the snow. He'll just stay here under the covers until winter is over, thanks.